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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27516643">Black Holes and Revelations</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenguinMerchant/pseuds/PenguinMerchant'>PenguinMerchant</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Enemies and Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, but it's just a backdrop for the porn, dubcon for a hot minute, holding a knife to your lover's throat can be so intimate, sci fi setting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-08 04:49:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,259</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27516643</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenguinMerchant/pseuds/PenguinMerchant</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Captain de Vere," Damianos says, his voice a low rumble in Laurent's ear. This close it was impossible to feel anything except the hard wall of muscle behind him, the way Damen's hand curls around his arm, the way the point of his dagger digs into his neck. "I've been expecting you.  You're not very subtle, you know, but I didn't think you'd make it this easy."</p><p>"I'm always obliging," Laurent says through gritted teeth, wondering how far an elbow in Damen's gut would get him. Damen, as if anticipating this, tightens the grip on his arm. It's just as well, really. He'd probably only break his elbow if he tried.</p><p>"I've heard a lot of words used to describe you, Captain, but I don't think 'obliging' was ever one of them."</p><p>"Oh?" Laurent says, trying desperately to even out his breathing, to calm his rapid heartbeat. "You've been listening to gossip about me, then. What words have you heard, if not that?"</p><p>"A lot that I can't repeat in polite company," Damen says, laughing lightly.</p><p>"You wouldn't say I'm polite if you knew where I was thinking about shoving that dagger of yours right now."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>61</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>209</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Black Holes and Revelations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Please please <em>please</em> let me come with you tonight,” Nicaise says, sprawling out on Laurent's bunk. Laurent ignores him as he holds up two different jackets to consider; they both scream that he's Veretian, but then, that's not something he's trying to hide tonight. He runs his fingers over the material on both of them and eventually decides on the lighter blue one, throwing the darker, heavier jacket on top of Nicaise, who scowls at him as he pushes it off and onto the floor.</p><p>“You need someone watching your back,” Nicaise says when he doesn't answer. “In case things go bad. I can be your eyes and ears.”</p><p>“Things are <em>more</em> likely to go bad if you're there, not less,” Laurent says coolly, lacing up the front of his jacket. “Remember the last time we let you out? You started a fight in that shitty bar and we nearly got blasted out of the sky as we high tailed it out of there. You're lucky we already had the product stowed or Auguste would've taken it out of our pay.”</p><p>“He would never. And that man tried to put hands on me--”</p><p>“I didn't say the fight wasn't warranted.” Laurent finishes his jacket, keeping his voice easy.  “Just that trouble always seems to find you, wherever you go. Besides, don't you have some engine checklists that need going over before we head out tomorrow?”</p><p>Nicaise only shrugs at the question and flops back down on the bed. He's lucky the two of them are alone; if they had been in front of the crew, Laurent wouldn't have let that non-answer go. But then, he had always allowed Nicaise more leeway than was probably wise.</p><p>He picks his way over the discarded jacket and goes over to the side table to sort through all of the accouterments he might need tonight. He pockets a small dagger, an empty data stick, the earbud that will allow him to talk to the ship if he needs to. He discards some of the heavier weaponry like his blaster or vibroblade, knowing he won't be able to get it past security anyway, at least not without more trouble than he wanted to deal with right now.</p><p>When he turns back to Nicaise he finds his little brother making the most ridiculous puppy dog eyes at him and knows without a doubt that Auguste had taught him how to do that, the traitor.  For a moment they stare at each other, Laurent determined not to budge an inch. Then Nicaise's bottom lip starts to quiver, and Laurent sighs loudly and rolls his eyes, mentally cursing both of his brothers for good measure.</p><p>“Fine,” he says, putting all the exasperation he can possibly fit into that one word. “You can come. But you're going to be working. This isn't just going to be free leave time.”</p><p>“I understand! I'll be ready in five minutes!” he calls, jumping up from the bed and giving Laurent a quick hug. “You won't regret this, I promise.”</p><p>Laurent just sighs and sticks an extra dagger into his boot. It was going to be a long night.</p><p>
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</p><p>They pass easily through security at the docks, none of their weapons pinging the scanners. In a place like this security was more concerned with larger scale weapons, something that could blast a hole through the thick bulkheads that kept the denizens inside safe from the black void outside and not something like Laurent's dinky little daggers. Although if they knew how well he could wield them, they might have given him a more thorough check.</p><p>Luckily, though, no one recognizes either him or Nicaise and the fake ID cards they give pass muster. They make their way over to the markets, filled to the brim at this time of the day with customers, bustling around, shouting and jostling and scurrying this way and that. Mostly Vaskians, which wasn't surprising seeing as how they were smack in the middle of Vaskian space, but Laurent can see a few of the bolder Patrans milling about as well, their brightly colored feathers slightly drooping in the heat. They handled the sweltering temperatures of Vaskian stations about as well as the humans did—which wasn't accurate though, really, because some humans loved this heat and the sticky humidity that came with it.  It would be more accurate to say that the Patrans handled the heat as well as Laurent did, which was to say grudgingly but not very comfortably.  A bead of sweat caught by his collar comes loose and trickles down his back, as if in solidarity with the other warm blooded creatures here.  He ignores it.</p><p>The Vaskians, of course, are thriving in this hot, sticky air. They dart in between the stalls, selling everything from engine parts to clothing to a sickly sweet looking candy that makes Laurent's teeth hurt just from looking at it. There's not too many females out--at least, none that Laurent can see, which means almost nothing considering how good they are at blending in--but the male Vaskians seem to be everywhere, acting both as vendors and billboards, their bright scales flashing in complicated patterns that might indicate something to other Vaskians but only serve to aggravate the headache that Nicaise had birthed in Laurent's head.</p><p>Eventually they reach the end of the markets, the noise and lights fading slightly as they make their way to a less sparsely populated area.  In front of them stands their destination, a building so tall it nearly touches the top of the dome that encloses the station, and Laurent looks up.  His translators try and fail to make out the Vaskian dialect on the sign that flashes over the ostentatious front door. He's been told that in Vaskain it's a lewd and somewhat hilarious pun, but to him it simply reads “Splendid Light Violent Flash”, which wasn't particularly funny or salacious.</p><p>That isn't the sign that catches Nicaise's attention, though.</p><p>“They have nude dancers here?" Nicaise asks, pointing to a sign advertising just that.  Underneath a smaller sign reads something about a free buffet, now with more meal worms than ever.  "Are we seriously going to a strip club right now?”</p><p>“It's for business, Nicaise,” Laurent warns, but Nicaise brushes him off.</p><p>“Oh, I'm sure. This is why you didn't want anyone coming with you, wasn't it? Did I put a stop to your plans tonight, dear brother?”</p><p>“I didn't want you coming with me for a multitude of reasons, but I can assure you that my plans here were not one of them,” Laurent says as the doors open in front of them. A tastefully clothed male Vaskian bows as they enter the building and are hit with a renewed blast of heat. It's at least five degrees hotter in here than the already sweltering temperatures of the station, and Laurent makes a mental note to pick up a lighter jacket for the next time he has to come here. He had forgotten how completely unbearable this heat was.  Nicaise already has his own jacket unlaced before the doors even close and Laurent can't find it within himself to blame him, although he leaves his own clothes fully done up. </p><p>“Ice cold Laurent,” Nicaise says as they walk over to the main balcony that overlooks the stages below, “who would ever guess that he spends his free time in a—aw man, they're Vaskian dancers,” Nicaise says, leaning over the railing and looking down at the pit beneath them.  A giant stage sits at one end where a fully nude male Vaskian writhes about on a pole, his flashy scales changing in tempo with the thundering drums beats that blare out of the speakers.  A few smaller stages fill out of the edges of the space, but only a few of them have anyone dancing on them and no one seems to be paying them much attention.  The main stage is attracting the largest crowd, about fifty of the plain, brown, female Vaskians, who at the moment are simply watching the dancer intently and swaying gently to the beat.  It looks relatively peaceful at the moment, but the air crackles with the promise of violence.</p><p>“Greetings, Captain,” a female Vaskian says, coming up to them two of them at the railing. She's short for her sex, only about six feet or so and with only a few dozens scars scattered across her brown scales. Must be a young recruit.</p><p>“My name is Kashel,” she says, holding her claws forward in a tight fist. Laurent returns the gesture (sans claws, of course) and after a gentle nudge Nicaise does the same, completing the traditional Vaskian greeting that is meant to symbolize the intention of peace through the absence of weapons--those weapons being, of course, the wickedly sharp claws that all of the female Vaskians possess, just one of the many reasons they were considered some of the best fighters in the galaxy. Kashel nods at them appreciatively.</p><p>“I am to convey to you that Clan Leader Halvik is dealing with a matter that requires her urgent attention, and so she will be late for her appointment. Fifteen minutes or so she asks you to wait, no more, but she begs that you will forgive her and partake in some free refreshments, if that is amenable to you.”</p><p>Laurent nods. “It's no problem. We'll wait at her convenience.”</p><p>Kashel bows slightly and takes her leave, and Laurent and Nicaise find somewhere to sit down. Since the nude dancers had turned out not to be human Nicaise had lost interest in their setting, and Laurent nudges him with his knee as they sit down on some of the human sized couches.</p><p>“We're here on business, Nicaise,” Laurent says softly, knowing that his brother's comm will pick up his voice if it doesn't carry naturally over the loud thumping of the music. “Remember?  No time for sulking.”</p><p>“I'm not sulking, I'm wilting. It's hot in here.”</p><p>“It's a Vaskian station. You knew it would be hot.”</p><p>“Yeah well, knowing it and feeling it are two different things,” he says, scanning the room lazily. “I don't remember it being this hot the last time we were here.”</p><p>“Last time we were here it was for a supply run, and you weren't supposed to leave the ship,” Laurent points out. “You didn't lie to me about how you reorganized the mess hall that day, did you, baby brother?”</p><p>Nicaise flushes a deep red color and turns toward the sunken dance floor, mumbling “I guess that's why I don't remember it being this hot.”</p><p>Laurent snorts. “Alright, Nicaise. We're working, and you're supposed to be my backup, remember? How many security guards are watching us right now?”</p><p>“Two watching, three on standby,” Nicaise mutters, not looking away from the pits. The female Vaskians are starting to get antsy, and Laurent watches as one of the largest females takes a swipe at the one next to her. She misses, but only barely, and the one who was targeted turns and hisses at her. </p><p>“How many are armed?”</p><p>“With claws? All of them.”</p><p>“Not with claws.”</p><p>“Three of them.”</p><p>“And the three humans at the bar?”</p><p>Nicaise glances over quickly and then turns away again. “None armed.”</p><p>“You didn't notice them, did you?”</p><p>“They're not armed,” Nicaise says, a little bratty.</p><p>“They are,” Laurent says, “at least two daggers, probably a vibroblade on the largest one, with the odd way she's sitting. Why didn't you clock them when you came in?”</p><p>“Maybe because I was more worried about the seven foot tall lizards with blades attached to their hands,” Nicaise says.</p><p>Laurent sends him a level look at that impertinence, which Nicaise has the decency to look at least a little ashamed by.</p><p>“We're here under Halvik's protection,” Laurent says. “Any trouble is going to come from someone not associated with her, most likely either the humans or Patrans. Those are who you should be looking out for, not the Vaskians. Although there are always exceptions to that rule. Tell me, Nicaise, how many Vaskians are eavesdropping on our conversation right now?”</p><p>He pitches this last question a little louder and glances toward the creature who is seated a few feet away from them. Nicaise doesn't look, but he smirks, sensing the theatricality of the question.</p><p>“I can't imagine there's anybody stupid enough to try and do that,” he says, matching Laurent's tone. “They'd probably find their tail cut off in short order, if that were the case.”</p><p>The Vaskian stands, at this remark, and swishes his tail violently in what Laurent thinks is probably an unintentional reaction to Nicaise's threat. He approaches the two of them, blunt claws held out in balled fists, a gesture that Laurent doesn't return this time.</p><p>“I am sorry if you perceived me as being rude, Captain,” the Vaskian says, “but I was only trying to ascertain your identity before approaching. I did not want to mistake you for someone else.”</p><p>“Why don't you tell me who you were looking for, then, and I'll let you know if you were right or wrong,” Laurent says, although the fact that the Vaskian had addressed him as “Captain” was a pretty good giveaway that he had the person he was looking for. </p><p>“I am looking for Captain de Vere," the Vaskian says.  "Known in some circles as The Snake."</p><p>Nicaise snorts.</p><p>"I never quite understood why I earned that nickname, you know," Laurent says, shooting Nicaise an amused look.  "But now I do.  Someone must have been trying to discredit me, because it sounds absolutely ridiculous when you say it out loud."</p><p>The Vaskian blinks one eye, and then the other.  </p><p>"I apologize if it is intended as an insult," he says diplomatically.  "It is only what I have heard others call you.  Our culture does not have snakes, so it is a meaningless title to me.  Certainly not as evocative as your older litter mate's title, the B--"</p><p>"I wouldn't finish that sentence if I were you," Laurent says sharply, cutting the Vaskian off mid sentence.  "We're quite touchy about that name, and if you know anything about our history, which you seem to, I think you can understand why." </p><p>"I think I do," the Vaskian says easily.  "Again, I meant nothing insulting by it.  I was only repeating what I had heard others say, and did not think that it would cause offense as it was not said to me with any ill intentions."</p><p>"So why don't you tell me a little about these intentions of yours?" Laurent says, shifting slightly in his seat so that his dagger is more easily accessible. "Before you make me nervous about what you're really doing here."</p><p>“I think we have probably passed that point, Captain, if my experiences with human physiology are to be believed. But I will tell you about my history to try and ease your body language somewhat. My clan name is Revii, of the Dagun system. And there is a saying in your language, I think, that will tell you the most important thing about me.”</p><p>“And that is?”</p><p>“I believe it goes, 'the enemy of another's enemy has the possibility of being a potential friend',” Revii says carefully, his scales pulsing a soothing blue color. “We have a similar saying in Vask, although it does not translate well.”</p><p>“Humor me,” Laurent says.  "I'm always game for learning new idioms."</p><p>“It loosely translates to, 'those who would spear fish in the communal pond do make enemies of both clanmates and fish alike',” he says. “Of course, in Vaskian the play on the word fish is--”</p><p>“A pun, yes, I figured,” Laurent says, and Revii tilts his head in agreement. “Your species seems to have a special liking for puns. Now, as fun as this cultural exchange of information has been, I'm still waiting for the part where you tell me what you want."</p><p>"You are aware of the illustrious smuggler Damianos, are you not?"</p><p>Laurent lets out an amused breath.  "Enough to know that "illustrious" is categorically hyperbolic."  </p><p>"And he is what you might call your enemy," Revii says.</p><p>"You might say that," Nicaise butts in.  "'Nemesis' might be more appropriate.  'Pain in the butt' might be even better."</p><p>"Everyone knows the Veretians and Akielons don't get along," Laurent says, shooting Nicaise a warning glance.  "That's hardly classified information, but I still don't see why it concerns you."</p><p>"Because," Revii says, "Damianos seems like a man who has many enemies.  And if you are one, and I am one, then that would make us friends.  And if we're friends, we could perhaps help each other out."</p><p>"I don't know what you've heard about me besides my nickname," Laurent says, pushing down his annoyance at this backhanded game of doublespeak and entendres, "but if you've listened to any gossip about me you'd know that I'm not someone who makes friends easily.  Not that I don't appreciate an impromptu meeting of the 'I Hate Damianos' club, but I'm going to need a little more from you if you want to be someone I call to go have brunch with.”</p><p>“I am unsure of what a brunch entails, but I believe that I take your meaning regardless.  As a gesture of good faith I will show you an item I believe you will find very interesting.” Revii takes a data stick out of his pocket and puts it very carefully on the small table in front of them. Laurent eyes it warily, and makes no move to take it.</p><p>“If you want to hire me to drag that thing across space, I might as well tell you that it would be cheaper to send it through the post even if you are fishing for a friend's discount. They hardly ever check data sticks, you could probably get away with hiding whatever's on there without too much trouble.”</p><p>Revii shakes his head. “I do not need this transported. At least not in the way you think.  How easy would it be for you to sneak onto Damianos' ship, Captain?”</p><p>“Are we playing hypotheticals?” Laurent asks. “Because I don't have a very active imagination, and I find that I need things explained to me in great detail before I can rightly picture them. Why don't you tell me what's on this and what you want with me, and then maybe I'll be more amenable to playing games.”</p><p>Revii stares at him for a moment, his inner eyelid flicking across his iridescent eye in a movement that might be annoyance, or might simply be the way Vaskians kept cool. Laurent certainly wouldn't begrudge him that, at least; this heat was getting to him slowly but surely, and it was making him cranky. Well, crankier than normal.</p><p>“Very well. Is is true that Damianos once came within fish spearing distance of a black hole in order to shave a few hours off his time and thus beat you to an extremely lucrative job that the Patrans were planning on offering to you?”</p><p>“Listen,” Laurent says, supremely annoyed now, “if you want to sit here and recount all the ways in which Damianos and I have screwed each other over throughout the years, we can. <em> I </em>certainly won't pass up an opportunity to tell you about the time that I may have lightly poisoned his pilot—not fatally, of course—the day before they were supposed to leave for Ver-Vassal with a contingent of live leopards in their hold, but I am warning you that when Halvik calls for me I will leave you here, mysterious data stick or no.”</p><p>Revii tilts his head and considers him, and for the first time Laurent wonders if he's being fed instructions through a comm, if maybe there's someone on the other end looking for something from Laurent before allowing Revii to explain in detail what he wants. </p><p>If there was, they seem to have finally made up their mind.</p><p>“There is a program on that data stick,” Revii says, the end of his tail flicking nervously, “that will, once plugged into a ship's mainframe, shut down the engines and life support of that ship at a designated time.”</p><p>“Impossible,” Laurent says reflexively. “There's no program out there that can get past a ship's AI.”</p><p>“I assure you, there is,” Revii says, looking very pleased with himself. “I have seen evidence of this program myself. I know you have no reason to trust me on this, and all I can do is assure you that we have the same goal in mind.”</p><p>An end to Damianos. Laurent turns his cool gaze on the Vaskian, whose scales are pulsing a pleased hue right now. In the dancing pit the drums are picking up their rhythm, pounding more intently, and Laurent can hear a few battle cries over the noise.</p><p>He doesn't look. All of his attention is on Revii right now. He has a million questions that he wants to ask, but he goes with what he considers to be the most important.</p><p>“Why me?”</p><p>“You are capable. My sources tell me you are discreet.  There are a few other reasons, but the main reason is more practical than anything, I'm afraid."</p><p>"And that reason is?"</p><p>"The two of you are on the same station at the same time," Revii says, spreading his claws out in a gesture Laurent recognizes as a shrug.  "This was a window of opportunity that was too good to pass up."</p><p>It takes Laurent's brain a few seconds to process the information Revii had just given him.  He feels it strike him like a bolt of lightning, a streak of fire that tears through him and leaves a wake of tangled nerves and burnt organs behind.  He closes his eyes briefly, and wishes he were somewhere cool.</p><p>"There's no way Damianos is on this station," Laurent says eventually, hoping it doesn't sound as desperate as he feels. "Our latest intel has him somewhere in the middle of Patran space--"</p><p>"He's here, Captain.  The <em>Ios</em> and her crew docked five hours ago, and they have paid in advance for docking space for the next eighteen hours."  Revii cocks his head.  "I am surprised you did not know.  Perhaps you need to have a word with your sources."</p><p>"Oh believe me, there will be more than words," Laurent says, his tone deadly.  "You said there were other reasons.  I want to hear them."</p><p>"It is nothing underhanded or very complicated, I am afraid.  Mainly that your distaste for the rival smuggler human is known to us.”</p><p>“It's known to a lot of people,” Laurent replies, tucking that 'us' away to follow up on later. “Meaning that the blame for this would be placed at my feet, first and foremost.”</p><p>“But that's the beauty of this technology, Captain,” Revii says, pointing a blunt claw at the data stick. “You will be nowhere near his ship when it happens. It can be programmed to go off in ten minutes or ten months, it does not matter. This one I am giving you is programmed to go off in six days. It will allow you time to craft a solid alibi, should you even find the need for one.  And besides,” he says, wearing what Laurent guesses passes for a smirk on Vaskians, “Damianos has many enemies, even if few of them are as clever or capable as you are. The list of potential saboteurs will be long, if there's even anyone out there who would care to investigate his disappearance.”</p><p>Laurent's heart trips a savage beat at that proclamation, and he looks over at Nicaise almost without meaning to.</p><p>“His brother,” Laurent says, after a moment.</p><p>Revii smiles, sharp teeth showing. The expression isn't natural to Vaskians; it was something they adopted from the humans, an attempt to bridge the gap between the two species and find common ground. Apparently they didn't know how terrifying it was for a human to see all of those sharp teeth lined up, bared and looking fully capable of breaking bones in one easy snap.</p><p>Or maybe they did. The noise from the dancing pits gets a little more louder, a little more urgent.</p><p>Revii turns one iridescent eye on Nicaise.</p><p>“You are lucky to have litter mates who care so much for you, little one,” Revii says to him, standing up and giving Laurent a knowing look. “Not everyone is as lucky as that."</p><p>And then he's gone, darting away into the darker area of the club.   The data stick sits, untouched, on the table in front of them.  The noise from the pits is overwhelming now, and Laurent and Nicaise both turn their attention toward the brutal, desperate scrabbling that has broken out below. It looks like chaos from their vantage point; claws swiping, punches being thrown, blood on the floor.  The female Vaskians are ruthless and bloodthirsty, although even someone as untrained in Vaskian fighting as Laurent is can see that they're holding back from permanently injuring each other. This was just a pastime and not actual clan warfare, after all.  Still, if there had been any humans stupid enough to be in that pit right now they would have likely been shredded to ribbons.</p><p>One by one each of the female Vaskians are either incapacitated or strategically retreat until only one is left, a seven and a half foot tall seasoned warrior with only one eye and a large, X shaped scar slicing across her body.   She jumps up on the stage and grabs the male Vaskian, lifting him over her head in victory as the male flashes his scales wildly, a show of skill which, Laurent had learned during one of his first visits here, meant that the male was ready to be taken back to the breeding rooms to help sire the next generation of Vaskian warriors.  Luckily that was an area totally off limit to spectators; Laurent thought that having to witness the symbolic claiming of mates was entertainment enough and was glad that at least part of it was done in private.</p><p>“Honored guests,” a voice says from behind them. Laurent and Nicaise turn together to see Kashel waiting for them. “Clan Leader Halvik is ready for you now and she thanks you for your patience with her.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Laurent says, nudging Nicaise. “We're ready.”</p><p>“Captain,” she says, as they make to follow her, “is that not your data stick on the table?”</p><p>Laurent looks back at the stick, as if he had forgotten it was there, as if the potential in it hadn't seared itself into his mind and claimed all of his synapses. He thinks back to the fight he had just witnessed, the brutality and ferocity of it. How alien it had seemed to him, the first time he had seen it, but now the memory of it slips around him in a familiarity that he finds hard to ignore.</p><p>“Yes,” he says, slipping it into his pocket. “Yes, it's mine.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The station is cooler with the nighttime lights turned on.  Still a little too stifling for Laurent's taste but he could lie to himself that it was almost comfortable.  The Patrans and humans are out in force now, spilling out into the streets, and merchants are hawking their wares free from having to compete with the flashier Vaskians.  It's easy enough for Laurent to make his way through the crowd without being noticed, the data stick from Revii snuggled firmly into the inner pocket of his jacket.  He resists the urge to check on it, to make sure it's still there, knows that doing so will only attract attention from pickpockets or other unsavory characters.</p><p>Within ten minutes he's found the <em>Ios</em>, docked in one of the upper berths of the station.  Laurent looks at it with barely concealed distaste; he had always found the Akielon ship to be rather ugly, a formless hunk of metal that reminded him of an anvil, and overlarge to boot, like her owner.  Nothing like his sleek little ship, efficient and crafted perfectly for exactly what she needed to be and no more.  He sits down casually on one of the benches that litter the docks, just another station denizen taking advantage of the cooler temperatures, and taps the comm in his ear.</p><p>"Vannes?" he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper.</p><p>"Yes, Captain?" V.A.N.N.E.S--the Voice Activated Neural Network Executive System--answers immediately.</p><p>"I need to get on the <em>Ios</em>.  Undetected.  Can you get me access to any of their systems from here?"</p><p>Silence, for a moment, and then a quiet beep. "Done, Commander. Login secured. How would you like me to assist you tonight?"</p><p>Which is how Laurent finds himself sneaking onto Damianos' ship with Vannes reading the biometric scans of all the crew members and telling him when to move, when to stop, and when to hide in order not to be seen.  With at least half of the crew out on shore leave it's not too hard to move around unmolested, listening to Vannes whispering softly in his ear, guiding him to where he wants to go.</p><p>"Is Damianos on the bridge, Vannes?" Laurent asks quietly as he turns down one of the many empty corners.</p><p>There's a pause, for a moment, before Vannes answers. </p><p>"Captain, I am unable to locate Damianos on the biometric scanner."</p><p>"He's not here?" Laurent asks, a strange prickling sensation buzzing against his skin.  That didn't make any sense; where else would he be?</p><p>"He's here, Captain.  I have a record of him entering an interior chamber approximately thirty seconds ago.  I am just unable to pick him up on the biometric readings."</p><p>"What?" Laurent hisses, flattening himself against the wall as if he might be ambushed at any moment. "How is that possible?  How can you not see him?"</p><p>Another pause. "He's not showing up on my scans, Captain."</p><p>Laurent grumbles something particularly rude under his breath and he can hear Vannes click at him in annoyance.</p><p>"Someone's coming, Captain," she says, and he hears the soft whir of the door next to him being opened. "My scans show this room is empty. I have unlocked it for you."</p><p>Laurent slips inside the room and peers into the darkness--a storage room, looks like, judging by all the crates scattered around, and he closes the door behind him as softly as he's able to. He hears the whir again as Vannes locks it behind him, and then he feels it--the slightest pinprick of a blade against his throat.</p><p>"Captain de Vere," Damianos says, his voice a low rumble in Laurent's ear. "Welcome aboard the <em> Ios</em>."</p><p>"Captain, I have detected Damianos," Vannes says. She sounds rather smug, and Laurent wonders if she'll still sound that way when he gets back to his own ship and unplugs her.</p><p>"Yes, thank you Vannes," he says, gritting his teeth. "I am aware. You're dismissed." Another soft beep as she disconnects from the comm in Laurent's ear.</p><p>"I've been waiting for you, you know," Damen says, pressing closer against him. This close it was impossible to feel anything except the hard wall of muscle behind him, the way Damen's hand curls around his arm, the way the point of his blade digs into his neck. "You're not as subtle as you think you are.  I didn't think you'd make it this easy, though."</p><p>"I'm always obliging," Laurent says, wondering how far an elbow in Damen's gut would get him. Damen, as if anticipating this, tightens the grip on his arm. It's just as well, really. He'd probably only break his elbow if he tried.</p><p>"I've heard a lot of words used to describe you, Captain, but I don't think 'obliging' was ever one of them."</p><p>"Oh?" Laurent says, trying to even out his breathing. His heart is beating rabbit fast and he hopes that Damen can't feel it, although they're pressed against each other so tightly he can't imagine there's any way he doesn't. "You've been listening to gossip about me, then. What words have you heard, if not that?"</p><p>"A lot that I can't repeat in polite company," Damen says, laughing lightly.</p><p>"You wouldn't say I'm polite if you knew where I was thinking about shoving that dagger of yours right now."</p><p>This gets a genuine laugh from Damen, and the hand on his arm loosens a little. "All right. Gossip, huh?  I've heard people say that you're ruthless. Cunning. A good strategist, although not as good as me," Damen says. There's no hubris to his words, just a simple statement of fact, and Laurent finds he can hardly be angry about the assessment. He had come to the same conclusion himself shortly after their first encounter, although he would never admit it out loud, of course. Besides, he had other ways of outmaneuvering his enemy, a fact that Damen would learn soon enough.</p><p>The dagger at his neck doesn't let up as Damen moves around in front of him, his eyes tracking up and down once, slowly, provocatively, setting fire to Laurent's skin as his gaze roams across his body, drinking him up like water. He's glad that it's dark in here; he must be blushing to the moon right now.</p><p>"That doesn't seem particularly salacious," Laurent says, an effort to get Damen's eyes to stop wandering.  He's proud of how even his voice sounds. "Reads more like an official report than anything."</p><p>"Most of the impolite things don't have anything to do with your professional merits," Damen says softly. "They mostly concern your...other habits."</p><p>Laurent bristles. "Oh?"</p><p>"Oh yes," Damen says, smiling. "I've heard a lot of gossip about that, actually. That you're colder than the vacuum of space. That you don't take lovers of any species, and not for want of them trying. That you're gorgeous. Arrogant.  Brilliant.  Breathtaking."</p><p>"Blond," Laurent supplies.</p><p>"Yes, that too. You know I have a weakness for blonds."</p><p>"It's something I've heard repeated in not so polite company, yes. Are you going to leave that dagger at my throat all night?"</p><p>"Depends," Damen says, his eyes sparkling, but he doesn't elaborate and he doesn't move the dagger.  "You know, there's something I've always wondered about you." </p><p>"Really," Laurent says flatly.</p><p>"How is it," Damen says, lightly tapping the blade against Laurent's collar, "that you can stand being laced up in this, when it's so hot here?  You must be dying of the heat.  I'm used to it, of course, and my chiton--"</p><p>"Has better airflow on account of the absolutely minimal amount of fabric it uses?"</p><p>"Exactly.  But you don't have that luxury, all tightly laced up like you are."</p><p>"It's called self control," Laurent says.  "You should try it sometime."</p><p>"It's called letting loose," Damen retorts. "I've always thought about what it would be like to cut you out of these laces," he says, running the point of his dagger against the fine silk that keeps Laurent's admittedly very fussy jacket together. "Force you to let loose a little."</p><p>"Don't you <em>dare</em>, Damianos," Laurent hisses.</p><p>Damen exerts a little pressure and one of the laces snaps; Laurent feels a little of the tightness loosen around his collar, but there are enough other laces holding firm that it doesn't do much more than that.</p><p>Damen sighs loudly.</p><p>"I should have guessed as much."  He trails the dagger down Laurent's chest, not hard enough to scratch the fabric but enough for Laurent to be able to feel it before finally stopping at his trousers. He sets it against the laces there, tapping it against him lightly, threateningly.</p><p>"Should I try again, you think?  I have a feeling these will loosen a little easier," he says.</p><p>"Animal," Laurent hisses, and snatches out for Damen's wrist. Damen drops the dagger as soon as his fingers make contact and the blade clangs harmlessly to the floor. They're too close together for Laurent to pull out his own dagger even if he had remembered to bring it and for a moment they tussle--but only for a moment, as Laurent is no match for Damen's speed and build. In short order Laurent finds himself pressed up against a stack of crates, his hands pinned above his head by one of Damen's oversized paws. He can feel Damen's other hand on his waist, curled possessively against his hip. Damen's close enough to kiss, and Laurent has to force himself to stop looking at his lips. </p><p>"All that self control, and look at you now.  Do you know what I do to stowaways, sweetheart?" Damen asks, the hand on Laurent's hip starting to roam, cupping his ass. </p><p>"Technically I'm a trespasser, not a stowaway," he says. He squirms against Damen's hold, but his grip is like iron and Damen barely needs to exert himself to keep him from moving.</p><p>"Semantics. The punishment will be the same for the one or the other.  Do you remember what you did to me that time I snuck onto your ship?  Maybe I should return the favor."</p><p>Laurent remembers--Damen, forced to his knees, Laurent's hand in his hair, the tang of metal and oil on his tongue from the engine room, where Laurent had found him--and lets out an unsteady breath.  Damen's got his hand at the front of Laurent's trousers now and he's making decent headway with the laces there but he stops, for a moment, and presses his hand up against Laurent's cock, fully hard and straining against the confines of his trousers.  Laurent can't stop the small whimper that escapes from him; just a small noise, barely audible over their breathing, but Damen must take it as encouragement because he redoubles his efforts on the laces.</p><p>"You really are a brute, Damianos," Laurent says, his cheeks flaming.</p><p>"I think you'll like it, sweetheart," Damen says, nuzzling up against Laurent's neck. There's just the slightest bit of stubble on his face and it rasps against Laurent's skin. "I think you'll be begging for me, by the end." </p><p>"I don't think I'll have to beg," Laurent says.  "I don't think you'll be able to stop yourself from taking whatever you want."</p><p>Damen huffs and his hand stills at the front of Laurent's breeches, and then stops.  Laurent's not sure if he's just stalling or giving up entirely but then he leans forward, resting his head on Laurent's shoulder and wrapping one arm around him in something that's almost like a hug. The strange intimacy of the gesture startles him.  His jibe was meant to be taunting, even if it hadn't come out quite as venomous as he had wanted, but it seemed to have touched upon something in Damen that Laurent hadn't really expected.  He's clutching Laurent to him tightly, tight enough that Laurent can feel the slight trembling in Damen's arm as he releases the grip on his wrists and pulls back far enough to look him in the eye.  He tilts Laurent's chin up so that he can't look away, the implacable brown warmth of his gaze piercing through Laurent's startled blue one.</p><p>"I want <em>you</em>, Laurent," he says, his voice low and husky.  "I've missed you so badly I can barely think."</p><p>"I--" Laurent is about to respond to this, but he snaps his mouth shut just in time to stop the words from leaving. An error to have said that much and not have a backup, something scathing, but Damen had startled it out of him and for some reason he can't quite bear to say anything mean right now. </p><p>"You what? Say it, Laurent," Damen says, pinning him to the wall with his gaze as effectively as his iron grip had done earlier.  "I want to hear what you were going to say."</p><p>Laurent scowls at him.  "I missed you too, all right?  Is it not obvious enough that you're going to force me to say it out loud?  I missed all of your ridiculous muscles, your stupidly short chiton, your inexplicable disregard for your own safety, your--"</p><p>And then Damen reaches down and kisses him, effectively shutting him up.</p><p>It can't be their first kiss. He knows, intellectually, that they've done this before, fumbling together in the dark, in seedy hotels on forgotten planets, grimy bars on nameless space stations, or that one time they had crashed a lavish party on a luxury cruise liner and had gotten drunk and trashed the penthouse suite together. He knows it would be absurd to believe that there's any part of his body Damen hasn't touched with his lips at some point--especially his mouth, usually spewing some sort of venom in Damen's direction and unable to be interrupted but still easily silenced all the same. </p><p>But right now it definitely feels like their first kiss.</p><p>Damen's mouth is like a live wire against him, sending sparks skittering through his body, electrifying his nerves.  He realizes a little too late that he should play it cool, make it seem like Damen hasn't completely undone the cool exterior that he's cultivated over the years with one desperate, vulgar kiss, but he's already dug his fingers into Damen's arm, a brutal grip like he's keeping himself from falling and Damen doesn't seem to mind--if anything, it seems to spur him on, encourages him to press harder, to kiss him more deeply.</p><p>He breaks away when he doesn't think there's any breath left in his body.</p><p>"Damen," he says, "I need you..."</p><p>He could swear there was another part of that sentence: to fuck me, to hurt me, to make me not have to think anymore, but he finds that he can't quite decide on any of those choices and at the moment he's not exactly sure which ones are true and which ones he's just thinking out of habit.  Damen seems to know, though, and as Laurent tries to turn around to get into a better position Damen stops him with a firm grip.</p><p>"I want to see you, Laurent," he says, fingers digging into his hips hard enough to leave bruises.  "I want to see you when you come."</p><p>"Fuck," Laurent says, casting his eyes upward as if the answer to what's causing this tightness in his chest will be written on the ceiling there, but he doesn't have too much time to think about it as Damen steps back and releases the pin that's holding his chiton up, the blood red fabric pooling at his feet. Laurent's had plenty of time to admire Damen's muscles --discreetly, of course, the man didn't need his ego to get any larger --but like always he finds that he can't quite ever get enough of it. He's traced those muscles with his fingers, has had every single one of them under his control, and it still takes his breath away to see them now. </p><p>But if Damen notices him looking he doesn't show it. He seems more interested right now in getting Laurent out of his own clothes, which only takes a moment now that Laurent has his hands free and can untangle the mess that Damen made of the laces. And before he hardly has time to kick off his pants Damen is using his impossible strength to lift him up like he weighs nothing. Laurent automatically wraps his legs around his waist to balance himself and loops his arms around his shoulders.</p><p>"You're ridiculous, you know that, right?" Laurent says, looking down at him from his now slighter higher vantage point.  It's a new perspective, which is novel considering how many strange positions he seems to find himself in whenever Damen is around, and he discovers that he likes it a little more than he probably should.  He's in a great position to run his fingers through Damen's hair and tug at his locks, a softness he indulges in and which causes Damen to groan deliciously.  And then, because he can't help himself and because Damen opened the floodgates already, Laurent reaches down and kisses him again and Damen just <em>lets</em> him, kisses him back like it's the only thing in the world he wants to do, as if Laurent can't feel the proof that he wants so much more than that pressed up against him. </p><p>"Enough," Laurent says suddenly, breaking away and burying his head into Damen's shoulder.  "We've waited long enough, I want you inside of me."</p><p>"I'll go slow, sweetheart," Damen says, and the endearment--usually said with such easy casualness--has such a note of tenderness and softness to it this time that it sends a frisson of something potent through Laurent that he can't quite identify.  "I don't want to hurt you."</p><p>"You had a dagger at my throat not two minutes ago," Laurent points out.</p><p>"That was different.  That was foreplay."</p><p>"That's your idea of foreplay?" Laurent says, delighted.  "Well, I guess I can't say I didn't like it.  But you really didn't need to, you know."  He leans forward so he can whisper into Damen's ear.  "I was ready for you before I even left my ship tonight, Damianos."</p><p>Damen looks at him then, lips quirked in confusion, before shifting his hold, bracing Laurent against the crates and balancing him with a tight grip against his thigh. He reaches his other hand around to Laurent's ass, slipping a finger inside of him--and Laurent can hear his sharp intake of breath as it goes in easily, slick with the lube Laurent had used to open himself. </p><p>"Laurent, did you--"</p><p>"I did," Laurent says, "although if I knew you were going to take a thousand years to fuck me I wouldn't have bothered and I would have spent that time reading instead--"</p><p>And then Damen is pushing into him, and his taunting turns into a noise that's not quite language any more. The feeling of Damen inside of him isn't entirely painless--Damen's always a lot to take no matter how much stretching is done beforehand--and he can feel the sharp pressure of Damen's stupidly large cock press up inside of him, spreading him a little faster than he can easily acclimate to.</p><p>But he doesn't care.  With what he wants from Damen tonight he still thinks that they're going much too slow and so with a roll of his hips he seats himself fully on Damen's cock, enjoying the sting of it almost as much as the sound Damen makes as he's buried to the hilt. He'll be feeling the ache of this for a while, and the bruises he knows are pressed on his hips will last even longer than that. He doesn't mind. It's something he can take with him once they're separated again, once they've both struck out for the black.</p><p>"Damen," Laurent says around uneven breaths, once he's grown accustomed to the feeling of Damen's cock, "as much fun as this is, I do believe you said you wanted to watch me come, so..."</p><p>"Gods, you're insufferable," Damen says, impossibly fond, claiming Laurent's mouth again as he thrusts up into him. </p><p>And as uncomfortable as this position is right now Laurent is close, another surprise in this evening that so far has been full of them.  Usually he took a lot of coaxing before he could come, coaxing which Damen had always been more than happy to provide, but so it's surprising when he feels that warm heat starting to pool in his gut already, making him sensitive to every scrape of skin, to every brush of Damen's lips against his own, even the feeling of the hard crates at his back and the firm grip pressing into his thigh. It feels like too much and not enough at once; having Damen here right now, filling him so exquisitely and murmuring such incoherently filthy things into his ear, and knowing he'll be gone again tomorrow and it'll be months before he'll be able to feel him like this again.</p><p>And for so long, Laurent had thought these brief moments they had together were enough.  A chance to get out some pent up energy whenever they happened to be in the same quadrant, whenever their busy schedules allowed for a little overlap.  And if they both kept making more and more excuses for those schedules to overlap a little more often than was strictly necessary or believable, well.  They hadn't talked about that, and Laurent's not sure that they ever will.</p><p>But that doesn't matter right now.  It wouldn't do to worry needlessly about the future, so instead he concentrates on the things he is sure of in this moment.  He's sure that Damen wants him with a ferocity he's only just now able to admit is mirrored in his own want.  He's sure that he never feels as bright or as electric as he does when Damen is around him, a heady mix of danger and lust that's been softening at the edges, lately, into something more sweet and comforting but still makes his pulse skyrocket all the same.  He's sure he's going to come soon, and that Damen will follow, because no matter what they're doing or where or in what position Damen always makes sure that he's taken care of first.  He's sure that as soon as they're done here he'll be heading back to his own ship, alone, and when they inevitably run across each other in open space they'll have to pretend to hate each other once more in order to keep up the pretense that's served them so well for so long now.</p><p>But it's okay.  For now this can be enough for him--it <em>has</em> to be--and when he paints Damen's chest with the hot stripe of his come he can feel Damen shudder and spend inside of him moments later, and even if he wasn't sure of anything in the entire universe he's sure that there's nowhere else he'd rather be right now than right here, held up in the warm comfort of Damen's arms.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>"Here," Laurent says, fishing out the data stick from his pocket as he holds his trousers loosely around his waist and hunts for one of his boots that he had accidentally kicked off a little too hard.  "This was the reason I came over here tonight."</p><p>"I'd venture that wasn't the only reason," Damen says, grinning.  Laurent blushes fiercely and practically throws the data stick at him. Damen catches it without even so much as a fumble and then glances at it with little interest.  "What is it?" </p><p>"Another assassination attempt.  It's a kill switch of sorts, and customizable.  This one was set to go off in six days so that I could plant it and craft a solid alibi.  The Vaskian who gave it to me said that it could subvert AI control and shut down life support."</p><p>"What, seriously?"</p><p>Laurent shrugs and finds his boot tucked behind one of the crates, and he pulls it on.  "Nicaise looked at the code, or as much as he was able to get at.  He said it was far more advanced than anything he's ever seen before, but it looked like it could be legit.  I obviously didn't stick it in my ship to see if it would work."</p><p>"Any word on who put out the hit this time?"</p><p>Laurent frowns at him.  Damen sounds rather unconcerned about the whole situation, and Laurent's not sure if it's just because he's in some strange post coital haze or if the shine of someone trying to get rid of him has worn off.</p><p>"There were...insinuations," Laurent says carefully.  "I didn't get a name, but--"</p><p>"Please don't say what I think you're about to say," Damen says. He sounds tired.</p><p>"--I think it was Kastor," Laurent finishes.  "Damen, you can't keep ignoring this.  This is the third time that someone has approached me--"</p><p>"And so why haven't you done it?"  Damen asks.  "You have as much to gain as Kastor does if I'm gone.  More, maybe, since you could easily wipe up whatever remnants of my smuggling empire he would be left with without me holding it together. You could double your family's reach. Why haven't you done it, Laurent?  Am I really that good of a lay?"</p><p>"Fuck you, Damen," Laurent says, shrugging into his jacket.  "Next time it happens, maybe I will."  He knows that's a lie the moment it comes out of his mouth, and he knows that Damen knows it too, but he's not going to take it back.  "And with such a charming personality of course there <em>will</em> be a next time, it's no surprise that half the galaxy wants you dead--"</p><p>The touch of fingers on his wrist--light, gentle, almost a caress--isn't enough to stop the venom pouring from his mouth.</p><p>The faint trembling he can feel <em>is</em>.</p><p>Damen's sitting on one of the crates in this cold room, his chiton in disarray, his hair wild around his face, and he looks so <em>tired</em>.  His fingers hang loose around Laurent's wrist and for one brief, hysterical moment Laurent thinks that this touch may be the only thing keeping Damen from flying apart right now.  But of course that can't be right.  Damen is strong, the strongest person Laurent's ever met, and he certainly doesn't need someone like Laurent to take pity on him, let alone take care of him.</p><p>"What are we doing here, Laurent?" Damen asks.  His voice is so quiet, so thin; Laurent doesn't think he's ever heard him sound so vulnerable before.  It's what makes him discard the first three responses he thinks of, the ones he know would cut Damen to the core and ensure that they could probably never have a civil conversation ever again. It's also what makes him reach out to brush a lock of hair from Damen's eyes without really meaning to, but Damen misinterprets the motion and cats into his hand instead, rubbing against his palm with his cheek. As Damen nuzzles against him Laurent can feel something inside of him crack, hard enough to break walls and shatter stone.  He closes his eyes against the sensation.</p><p>"I should go," he says, and is rewarded with the feeling of Damen's fingers tightening around his wrist.</p><p>"Stay," Damen says, and then blushes, a faint red color against his dark skin that Laurent can see even in this low light.</p><p>"That's not something we really do," Laurent says quietly.  "You can't possibly want me to--"</p><p>"Please," he says, his grip tightening briefly before he lets go altogether.  "I--I'd like it, if you stayed."</p><p>The thought that this might be some sort of trap only flits through his mind for the briefest second before he rejects the notion out of hand.</p><p>"All right," he says, "but I'm going to make you buy me dinner if you keep this up."</p><p>Damen grins and stands up, all of the tiredness gone from his limbs in an instant, and he reaches over to kiss Laurent one more time.  His lips are so soft, and he kisses Laurent so gently, like they don't have any secrets between them, like they haven't tried to kill each other before, like they're both not infamous for being mortal enemies.</p><p>"I'll hold you to that," Damen says.  "But for now I have some tea in my bunk, if you'd like."</p><p>Laurent nods his assent, and Damen grins again.  Laurent thinks that he just might agree to anything, trap or no, if he gets to see Damen smile like that.</p><p>"Aktis," Damen calls out.</p><p>A screen pops up next to Damen's head, a blue light blinking steadily into the darkness.</p><p>"Yes, Damianos Commander?" A.K.T.I.S--the Akielon version of Vannes, the Artificial Knowledge and Technology Intelligence System--answers.</p><p>"Is there anyone out and about right now?"</p><p>"No, Commander.  The bridge is occupied by a commanding officer and three of the crew are in their bunks, but there is no one currently in any other areas of the ship."</p><p>"Okay, good.  Make sure everyone stays where they are for the moment.  Discreetly," Damen says, anticipating the next question.  "Just until Laurent and I reach my quarters."</p><p>"Yes, Commander."</p><p>"Oh, and Aktis?  You can kick Vannes out while you're at it."</p><p>"Thank you, Commander," Aktis says, managing to sound entirely put out, and a second later Laurent hears a resulting squawk in his ear as Vannes is logged out.  "She has been trying to access your confidential files for the last five minutes.  I've prevented her from doing so, of course."</p><p>Damen cocks an eyebrow at Laurent, and he shrugs. </p><p>"I didn't tell her to do that.  She's always had a problem with showing too much initiative."</p><p>"Really?  So you only instructed her to break into my ship, then, <em>not</em> to break into my files."</p><p>"Well if you didn't want rogue AI's logging into your system maybe you shouldn't have made it so easy," Laurent retorts.</p><p>Damen rolls his eyes and reaches over to grasp Laurent's hand in his own, squeezing gently.  "I <em>let</em> Vannes break in, and you know it.  Maybe the next time she's trying to pressure you into buying her a new upgrade you can ask her whose idea it was to pretend she couldn't see me on the biometric scans."</p><p>"You have <em>got</em> to be kidding me," Laurent mutters, but then Damen's tugging on his hand and leading him out of the room, motioning for him to be quiet. </p><p>It only takes them a few minutes to sneak into Damen's bunk, which sits dangerously close to the bridge where Nikandros is on duty, probably the only person on board who would recognize Laurent on sight and who would shoot first and ask what the hell he was doing here later.  But Aktis ensures that they're unmolested as promised and they make it inside without incident, the satisfying whir of the lock clicking behind them as Damen ushers him inside.  Damen steps confidently inside the little cabin and begins tidying up a little, grabbing some clothes and some papers and throwing them in storage bins, and Laurent takes that brief time to look over everything.  The space is messy in a way that suggests Damen uses it more for collapsing in exhaustion rather than for really living in, but it's not dirty.  It's more spacious than Laurent's own cabin, but that's to be expected with the needlessly large ships the Akielons favor.  One wall is made up of nothing but maps, and they even look to be made out of real paper.  Antiques, maybe, and something that he didn't know Damen liked. It makes his chest hurt, for some reason.  A large viewscreen sits against the back wall, set up to display the view of a window looking out over the cliffs of Ios, waves crashing noiselessly against the white rocks.</p><p>Damen notices him looking at the viewscreen and quickly changes it to a generic shot of space, looking a little embarrassed.  Laurent doesn't have the heart to tell him that he had enjoyed looking at it, or the courage to ask him to put it back.</p><p>"Sorry about the mess.  You can take a seat, if you want," Damen says, clearing off a stack of books from the chair that sits in front of a little desk.  "It'll just take me a minute to get the water heated up."</p><p>Laurent hums and sits down, content to simply watch as Damen putters about the cabin, filling a kettle with water and setting it on a small hot plate.  It's a surprisingly domestic little scene, and there's something so mundane and ordinary about it that he almost laughs, although he's not really sure why.  Eventually the kettle goes off and Damen pours some water into a mug with the tiniest crack on the rim and dumps a tea bag in, letting it steep while he roots around in a tiny cupboard.  Laurent watches him with rapt attention, as if Damen preparing tea is the most interesting thing in the world, and thinks: maybe it is.  Maybe it is the most interesting thing, because Damen is the one doing it.</p><p>And then he banishes that thought from his brain immediately.</p><p>Damen evidently finds what he's looking for and grabs a tiny packet out of the cupboard, humming in approval.  He tears it open and pours it into Laurent's tea before handing the mug over to him. </p><p>"Sorry I don't have any of the real stuff, but I hope this is okay," he says, as Laurent stares blankly at the beverage in front of him.</p><p>"How...how did you know I took sugar with my tea?"</p><p>Damen shrugs, and takes a sip from his own mug.  "I've seen you take tea before.  I think it was...remember that asteroid we got stuck on?  The one with that shady ice mining operation."</p><p>"Yes," Laurent says, and blinks.  "We smuggled in medicine for the miners, I think."</p><p>Damen nods.  "We were carrying tools, or drills or something like that.  I don't rightly remember, I just remember the crates they were in were ridiculously heavy and that we broke a lift moving them out of the hold.  But that really bad storm came through while we were there, remember?  And all ships going in and out of the port were locked in for three days."</p><p>He remembers.  He had tried to bribe every official from one end of that stupid space rock to the other to let him and his crew leave and damn the consequences, but no one bit. To be honest his crew hadn't been that interested in sneaking out under those kind of conditions even if it was frightfully cold there, so it may have been a moot point.  He had been furious, at the time, that he was stuck on the galaxy's coldest asteroid with the galaxy's most upright police force, but then he had discovered that Damen was stuck there too, and he had very quickly joined the rest of his crew in their resolve that it was much too dangerous to leave.</p><p>"We met up in that hotel," Laurent says, his cheeks warming.  "And afterwards, you were so worried I was dehydrated and you ordered me tea, because the water had to be boiled before drinking anyway.  Damen, that was almost eight months ago.  Why on earth would you remember something like that?"</p><p>Damen rolls his eyes, as if the answer to that should be obvious.  "I have a good memory when it counts.  I remember you like a little sugar in your tea.  And I remember when I'm sucking your cock you like it when I do that thing with my tongue.  I can show you, if your memory isn't as good as mine." </p><p>"I have a perfect memory, thank you," Laurent says, taking a sip of his tea, which scalds his tongue and yet somehow feels almost cold against the feeling that Damen inspires in him.</p><p>Damen laughs and for a moment they just sit together in silence, sipping at the surprisingly pretty flavorful tea.  Laurent wonders if Damen keeps things like this on hand for all of his late night hookups, wonders how many other men and women have been smuggled back to Damen's bunk with Aktis serving as guard.  He wonders who else has gotten to see that Damen likes to keep his viewscreen on a picture from his birth world, a tiny piece of something like home that he can carry with him wherever he goes.</p><p>He tries <em>not</em> to wonder about why the thought of anyone else being here makes him so upset.</p><p>"Is the tea no good?" Damen asks, reaching over to take the mug from him.  "You're looking at that cup like it insulted your mother."</p><p>Laurent blinks, and lets him take the mug; he hadn't even noticed it was empty.</p><p>"No, it was good.  I was just thinking about...nothing." He huffs.  "It was nothing.  I appreciate the tea, thank you."</p><p>Damen narrows his eyes at him and then nods, as if deciding something.  He pulls Laurent up and starts tugging at the laces on the front of his jacket.   </p><p>"Come on, take off your jacket.  I'll wash it for you."</p><p>"You're going to wash my clothes now?" Laurent cocks an eyebrow at him but allows Damen to undo the laces and pull the jacket off.  "And do you expect me to just wait naked on your bed while you clean the clothes that you helped get dirty in the first place?"</p><p>"I mean, I wouldn't say no to that, if you were offering, but if you like.." he says, stopping his work on the laces and going over to the bedside table to grab a shirt.  "Here.  You can wear this.  It's a little big on me, so I'm sure you'll be swimming in it."</p><p>Laurent puts it on and quickly finds that Damen's right; it hits him mid thigh and makes him feel like he's ten years old, stealing clothes from his brother's cabin, but he doesn't take it off.  It smells like the cheap body wash Damen uses.  He lets Damen take his pants as well and he throws all of them in the cleaner, a little sonic washing machine that uses tiny sonic waves to break apart dirt and other unwanted detritus.  Damen adds his chiton to the mix as well before starting the cleaning cycle, leaving him completely, gloriously nude, and Laurent tries not to stare too openly as he walks casually over to the bed and lays down.</p><p>"You're welcome to sit on that little stool all night," Damen says, settling down, "but my bed is very comfortable."</p><p>"I'm sure," Laurent says, pausing.  Damen's eyes are closed and his breathing is easy, although Laurent can't imagine he's actually intent on going to sleep.  When he finally walks over and sits on the edge of the bed Damen keeps his eyes closed and wordlessly scoots over, making room for him to lay down.  He does.  The bed isn't particularly comfortable.  He settles in anyway.</p><p>"Why are you here, Damen?" Laurent asks after a moment, because out of all the questions he wants to ask right now, this one is the easiest.</p><p>"Mmm, mostly because it was really cold in that storage room," Damen says.  "Also my legs were pretty sore from holding you up like that.  You're not that light, you know."</p><p>"That's not what I meant," Laurent says, thumping him lightly on the chest, "and you know it.  What are you doing on this station?  The last time we talked you said you had a contract to deliver some goods over in the Patran system."</p><p>"Remind me," Damen says, turning on his side and bringing up a hand to run through Laurent's hair, "was the last time we talked the time we vidchatted and you watched me touch--"</p><p>Laurent puts his hand over Damen's mouth to stop him from completing that sentence. He knows his cheeks must be flaming, knows he must be as red as the scales on a shady Vaskian trying try to overcharge him on a condenser coil.  When he looks over Damen is laughing at him from under his palm, eyes sparkling.</p><p>"The last time we talked was over video, yes, and everything that happened on that call was <em>your</em> idea, you animal," Laurent hisses, removing his palm from Damen's mouth. "Now, are you going to tell me why you're here or are you going to avoid answering me for the rest of the night?"</p><p>"I may be an animal but you definitely didn't have any objections to what said animal was doing, and it definitely didn't stop you from joining in."</p><p>"Fine.  Avoidance.  That's fine," Laurent says, sitting up, but a tug from Damen has him flopping back down on the bed.  He makes another halfhearted attempt to get up but Damen pulls him down again and gathers him up in his arms, setting his chin on the top of Laurent's head as if to pin him down and keep him still. Damen's tone had been teasing, light, but Laurent could still hear the tension behind his words, and he doesn't push him again. </p><p>"There was...a situation," Damen says eventually.  When he doesn't continue Laurent snakes an arm around his waist, slotting the two of them more closely together, and he feels some of the stiffness falls off from Damen's shoulders.</p><p>"Kastor..." Damen's voice is shaky, and he takes a breath before trying again.  He doesn't waver when he continues.  "Kastor found us a client.  A Patran out in the wilds who was offering us twelve kilos of Virtulian salts for almost nothing.  Said he just wanted it as far away from him as possible.  Have you hauled that stuff before?"</p><p>"No," Laurent says, shaking his head.  "I know there's good money in it, but Auguste has always said it was too dangerous."  <em>And I'd never go against my brother</em>, he doesn't say.</p><p>"Yeah," Damen says, "well, he's right.  It <em>is</em> dangerous, but that's why the payout on it is so good.  I've hauled it successfully a few times before, and so Kastor asked me if I was interested.  I said yes.  The thing about the salts is that they're extremely volatile in large quantities when exposed to oxygen, so it's safer to do the transfer in space, which is always a pain.  And even then they absolutely cannot be jostled around too much because sudden movements can make them spark even in low oxygen or no oxygen environments.  So the transfer takes forever if you want to make sure you don't blow yourself up."</p><p>"So what happened?  Obviously you managed not to blow yourself up," Laurent says, gesturing to the cabin.</p><p>But Damen only shakes his head.  "The morning we were supposed to go meet the Patran, we couldn't find Pallas.  Anywhere.  We had been holed up on some shitty backwater planet for a week at that point waiting for the rendezvous and we were ready to get off that rock, but Pallas had apparently decided that that night would be a good time to go wander off with a contingent of local hooligans and get roaringly, stupidly drunk.  We eventually found him on the roof of the barn where the cows for the settlement were kept, sunburned to all hell.  We dragged him back on board, put him in the med bay and then tried to get to our rendezvous as fast as we could, but we were still hours late.  And when we got there..."</p><p>"It was an ambush," Laurent says softly.  "By someone who knew you'd be incapacitated for hours loading the salts, and unable to run if there was an attack.  But you were late, because of your crew, and you ended up surprising them instead."</p><p>"Exactly," Damen says, nuzzling into Laurent's hair.  "Anyway, we made short work of them, and got away without a scratch on us.  Afterwards, I contacted Kastor to tell him what had happened, and he said that I should head out here, talk to Halvik and let her know that there was an enemy clan close to her territory.  Maybe even take a few days to myself, he said, on account of the close call." </p><p>"Sounds reasonable.  And doing favors for Halvik never goes awry."</p><p>"That was my thought too.  But the thing was, I hadn't told him they were Vaskian raiders."</p><p>He hadn't needed to tell him, because Kastor had already known, because he had hired them.  If Laurent hadn't already been certain that Kastor was behind the attempts on Damen's life before, he would be absolutely certain now. </p><p>"So you came here, ostensibly to warn Halvik.  But you really came here because Kastor knew that<em> I</em> was here, and thought that I would finish the job."</p><p>Laurent feels an ember of anger building slowly inside of him, growing hotter and hotter as he thinks about Damen's treacherous brother.  He can feel Damen tense under his arm, and he flinches when Laurent props himself up.</p><p>"I'm going to kill him," Laurent says.</p><p>"He's my brother, Laurent," Damen says, a pained expression on his face.</p><p>"Yes, and he's tried to kill you. Multiple times.  I won't let him---he won't get away with it, Damen."</p><p>"Laurent," Damen starts, his voice laced with warning.</p><p>But Laurent ignores him, and reaches down to kiss him.  This time there's no trace of the sweetness Damen had shown him earlier, no softness; he's angry, and he wants to make sure that Damen knows it.  He bites at Damen's lower lip and he can feel Damen's grip tightening around his arm, ready to push him away, but then he gentles, soothes the area with a swipe of his tongue, and Damen relaxes.  When he pushes against Damen's lips he opens for him, and Laurent lets out an amused breath as he slips his tongue inside, gently exploring Damen's mouth, and he can feel when the moment tips, when Damen stops trying to push back against him and just lets Laurent do what he wants.  When he finally pulls back, Damen's pupils are blown and his lips are swollen red, and Laurent thinks: I could do this to him every day, and never get tired of it.</p><p>For some reason, that makes him even angrier.</p><p>"Promise me you won't hurt him," Damen says, and Laurent scowls at him.</p><p>"Fine.  I won't go after him, but if I ever meet him in open space he'd better run as fast as he can in the opposite direction."</p><p>"Laurent, don't.  You don't understand; you have two brothers who adore you, who aren't..." he trails off, his hand running idly up and down Laurent's arm.  He looks away. "He's all I have."</p><p>"That's not true." </p><p>The heated denial comes out of Laurent's mouth before he's able to stop it, a little more forceful than he had intended.  It lingers in the air for a moment, the first half of a whole truth, but Laurent refuses to let the rest of it out.  He had already shown too much of himself tonight.</p><p>"I think that it is."</p><p>"And I think that Nikandros would likely take offense to that sentiment, for one."</p><p>Damen sighs.  "Yes, I suppose you're right.  He's someone who's not actively trying to kill me, at least.  So that's one person who might be sad if something ever happened to me."</p><p>"And...your crew," Laurent says.  "I'm sure some of them admire your brash style of leadership, or your uncanny ability to just successfully smash your way through whatever giant obstacles are placed in front of you."</p><p>"They like me well enough, but if I was gone they'd have a new job by the end of the week and you know it," Damen says, his voice strained.  "Is there really no one else in the entire universe who cares for me besides my best friend?"</p><p>The words are on the tip of Laurent's tongue--me, me, <em>me</em> you fool, how can you be so blind, how have <em>I</em> been so blind--but he can't make himself say them.  Can't make himself say anything, even something scathing, although he feels the itch to do so and knows that giving in to that feeling would be the safer option for him, in the long run.  It's all too much for him right now, and he pushes himself away from Damen and scoots down the bed--not a rejection of Damen's question, but a wordless request for time.  Damen doesn't push him.  Laurent knows that he understands, knows enough to let him do as he likes in silence as he rearranges himself into a comfortable sitting position and drags Damen's foot into his lap.  He brushes his fingers over all the delicate veins that run across the top of his foot, tracing those little blue lines one by one and following the path of them until they disappear. He grabs Damen's heel with a little more force, pushing a nail into the hard skin just to feel the resistance there.  If Damen feels any discomfort he doesn't show it, although he's still holding himself unnaturally still, as if he's afraid a sudden movement will startle Laurent out of bed entirely.</p><p>But Laurent ignores him and concentrates on what he's doing.  He traces the little bones that stick out on Damen's ankles, pressing down enough to make out the contours of the joint there but not enough to hurt him.  Ankles are so funny, he thinks suddenly; so delicate, and prone to turning on themselves for no reason, or twisting when doing the most mundane of tasks, but they're capable of holding up an entire body, even a body as large and as strong as the one beneath him now.   </p><p>"What are you doing?" Damen asks, his ragged voice breaking the silence of the cabin, and Laurent's certain that if he could meet his gaze right now it would break him apart. He very carefully doesn't look up.</p><p>"Do you remember," he says, purposefully ignoring Damen's question, "not the first or second or maybe even third time, but later?  When we finally decided to get a hotel room and take some time, rather than just fuck in the bathrooms in crappy bars or in empty warehouses or whatever.  You went so slow," he says, placing Damen's foot carefully on the bed and shifting around so he's straddling Damen's legs.  He runs his hands up Damen's thighs, enjoying the way the muscles flex underneath his touch, carefully ignoring the growing arousal at the apex there.  "I didn't know it could be like that, with someone else.  I didn't know that I <em>wanted </em>it to be like that with someone else."</p><p>"I remember," Damen says.</p><p>Laurent presses lightly against the bones around Damen's hips.  Every once in a while Damen will twitch reflexively under his fingers, and Laurent can't tell if it's because he's found somewhere sensitive or if he's just jumpy.  He wasn't wrong to be nervous, really.  Laurent hadn't always treated him kindly, or as softly as he was now.</p><p>"It surprised me, you know, that you would even bother finding out what I liked," he says, unable to stop the flood of words coming out of his mouth.  He works his hands up towards Damen's rib cage and across his stomach, his chest, made up of muscles and scars.  He has a good smattering of hair across his torso too, somehow both soft and a little scratchy at the same time, and Laurent traces the whorls with one finger, across his pecs, down the trail on his stomach, through the soft thatch of pubic hair above his cock.  "But then I came to realize that fucking someone into oblivion is one thing and enjoyable enough in its own way, but this--unraveling, undoing, unmaking someone with these slow, careful touches--well, that's something else, isn't it?"</p><p>Damen makes a sound in the back of his throat that reminds Laurent of someone being tortured.</p><p>"Oh hush.  I know you don't like this like I do but you can stand it for a little while longer."</p><p>"You're wrong," Damen gasps out.  "I like everything you do to me.  Probably a little too much."</p><p>"I'm going to remember that you said that."</p><p>He slows down even further, closing his eyes and tracing each scar he encounters, feeling for the edges of them without looking, letting the sensation of different textured skin tell him the outline.  He knows where Damen had gotten some of them, but not all; he finds suddenly that he wants to know <em>everything</em>, wants to be able to look at Damen like this and see his history written there on his skin, wants to be able to read him like a book.  He pays special attention to a small scar in the shape of a starburst on the left side of Damen's ribs.  One of the earliest chapters between the two of them, back when they only knew each other by name and reputation. </p><p>And the fact that they both wanted the other dead. </p><p>"Do you remember when I gave you this?" Laurent asks him, his voice dreamy.  He had been lucky--or rather, Damen had--that the knife had bounced off one of his ribs, and that Laurent hadn't damaged any organs.  Of course, at the time he hadn't thought so; he had wanted to kill the man, after all, and Damen had proven himself to be impossibly reluctant to bend himself to Laurent's desires at the time.  So much had changed since then.</p><p>"I remember," Damen says, tensing.  He must have picked up something in the tenor of Laurent's voice, and he wasn't wrong to be fearful of it.  Laurent lets the embers of the anger that he had so carefully banked rise in him now, stoked by his inability to say the words he wants to say, by Damen's inability to intuit the truth of it regardless.  He can feel those little flames hungering inside of him, clamoring to get out, itching for a fight, and at the moment he has no inclination to keep them to himself, to burn himself up with them. </p><p>"I'm not sorry, you know.  I like that you have it." </p><p>His words are a challenge, and Damen is quiet for a moment before responding to it.</p><p>"I know," is all he says.</p><p>"Do you?" Laurent hisses, digging his fingers into Damen's ribs until he's flinching away from the pressure of it.  His anger is a small blue star, ready to go supernova, and Laurent lets it explode, lets it wash over him and consume him and everything around him.  "Any other lover you take can see this scar, and they might not know it was me who gave it to you, but you'll know.  And you'll know that I staked my claim on you as sure as you wear the proof of it on your skin.  So don't tell me that no one cares for you, Damianos, or that no one would mourn you if you were gone.  Because you've left your mark on me just as decidedly as I have on you, even if you weren't courteous enough to give me something I can trace with my fingers or see in the mirror.  Do you understand me?" </p><p>"Yes," Damen says.</p><p>"I don't think you do," Laurent says, "not really.  But that's okay.  I will <em>never</em> forgive you if you end up being murdered by your treacherous brother, do you understand that, at least?"</p><p>"You make it sound like I want him to kill me," Damen says irritably.</p><p>"I wonder, sometimes," Laurent says, easing up on the pressure and rubbing him gently with long, smooth strokes.  He feels hollowed out, cored, as if the center of him is collapsing now without the strength of his anger providing structure.</p><p>But that also means he has no more to give Damen, and so his touch is light now, and gentle.  He can't see any reason to stop the progress he's made on Damen's body and so his hands wander further up, stopping briefly over his heart, a frantic staccato of beats against his palm.  He smooths over Damen's collarbone and skims lightly over the hollow of his throat.  With a feather light touch he puts both hands on Damen's neck and Damen doesn't even flinch, and when Laurent looks up at him Damen is regarding him silently but without even the slightest hint of fear in his eyes.  Maybe it's because he knows that his superior strength would win in a fight, if it came to that.  Maybe it's because he knows that ultimately Laurent won't hurt him.  Whatever it is, it causes an almost feral need in Laurent to test that trust, to see how far Damen would extend it, how far he could be pushed before he broke, and he roughly, viciously forces that impulse away.</p><p>"There hasn't been anyone else, you know," Damen says softly as Laurent runs a thumb along each side of his jaw. His fingers stutter in their path as Damen's words hit him. For a moment he has to use all of his available brain power to get his fingers moving again and under his control before he can turn his mind to what Damen had just told him, but Damen doesn't even give him a chance to breathe. </p><p>"Not since that first time," Damen continues.  "It's only been you, Laurent."</p><p>He feels the blow against his heart as Damen pummels him with his soft, sure words.  He soaks them up, basks in them, tries to understand why they feel like a healing salve when he didn't even know that part of him was hurt to begin with.</p><p>"And you don't--I'm not looking for reassurance here," Damen says, a small huff of laughter escaping his lips.  "I'm not asking the same from you.  I just wanted you to know."</p><p>Not asking the same from him.  As if there had hardly even been anyone before Damen, let alone room for anyone else after.  As if he could stand to have someone else touch him like Damen touches him, rough and gentle and precise and knowing.  As if he could afford to have another weakness in his life, so many different points of access from which he could be hurt.  Auguste. Nicaise.</p><p>Damen. </p><p>And Laurent realizes--or, perhaps, is simply able to put to words for the first time--why these attempts on Damen's life have affected him like they have, why Kastor's attack on Damen feels so personal to him.  If anything ever happened to his brothers he would be inconsolable because he loves his brothers.  If anything ever happened to Damen he would also be inconsolable, because he is in love with--</p><p>"You really don't understand, do you?" Laurent murmurs, running his fingers lightly over Damen's cheekbones, his eyebrows, his eyelashes.  Damen lays still for the inspection, only arching up when Laurent runs his fingers through his hair, dragging nails across his scalp.  "That's okay.  I just figured it out too."</p><p>"Figured out what?"</p><p>"Idiot," Laurent says, smiling fondly down at him.  He reaches down and kisses him, a hard, desperate kiss, with no trace of anger or helplessness or anything except for the burning, crazy want he's feeling right now for this ridiculous man.  Damen must feel it too because he wraps his arms around him, bringing him in closer until they're pressed tightly up against each other, their bodies slotted perfectly together. Damen's hand slips underneath the giant shirt he's wearing and he traces a finger lightly against Laurent's spine, causing goosebumps to rise up in their wake, and Laurent shivers at the sensation.</p><p>"Is it my turn now?" Damen murmurs, his lips finding that sensitive spot behind Laurent's ear.  "What was it you said earlier?  Unraveling, unmaking?"</p><p>"It's too late for that, I think," Laurent says, almost to himself.  "But you're welcome to try."</p><p>"That sounds like a challenge."</p><p>"It's not, you beast," Laurent says, letting out a small yelp as Damen flips both of them over.  He scowls at Damen and has a feeling that it's not nearly as intimidating as he wants it to be because Damen smiles at him with an almost insufferably adoring gaze.</p><p>"Your bed is ridiculously uncomfortable, you know," Laurent says.</p><p>"I know," Damen replies.  "But I find it to be much improved by your company."</p><p>And Laurent doesn't even have a chance to tell Damen how unbearably cheesy that line is before they're kissing again, and the only thing Laurent can concentrate on is the way Damen's lips feel against his own, the way his fingers feel on his skin, and he doesn't think about anything else again for the rest of the night.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>Two Weeks Later</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Laurent looks out over the vast canyons of Ver-Dal as the first of the twin suns sinks beyond the edge of his vision.  The horizon turns a dusty red color, and then orange and yellow, never quite reaching the dark blues and purples that signify night is coming as long as the second, smaller sun is still up shining its light--and heat, of course.  Even with only one sun blazing down right now it's still hotter than any place has any right to be, and Laurent makes an oath to himself right then and there that if Auguste ever asks him to make a run into Vaskian territory again he will throw an honest to god tantrum the likes of which this galaxy has never seen.</p><p>He turns from his vantage point at the end of the landing platforms and walks inside the cave where his ship is currently docked.  They'd successfully unloaded all of their cargo earlier in the day but had to wait until tomorrow to load their next shipment, when both of the suns would be down and most of the Vaskians would be sleeping.  The wait was okay, though.  The crew deserved some time off, and Orlant had already made an offhand comment about how excited he was to go explore the world famous spice markets a few caverns away from them, and Laurent certainly didn't have any intentions of keeping his cook from trying to make their boring ship's fare a little more palatable.</p><p>"You want to come with us, Captain?" Jord asks as Laurent lets himself inside the <em>Hennike</em>, nearly collapsing under the weight of the air conditioning inside.  "Lazar found out about some Vaskian fighting rings three caves over."</p><p>"No, thank you," Laurent says, remembering the fight from the strip club back on Halvik's station.  "I've had enough of watching Vaskians tear each other to shreds for a lifetime.  And you'd better not be planning on taking Nicaise with you."</p><p>"No problem, boss," Lazar calls out from the other side of the hold.  "I don't need some kid cockblocking me when I'm trying to get laid."</p><p>"I'm right here, asshole," Nicaise says, leaning out precariously from an open area in the wall, usually covered by one of the false panels that are littered throughout the ship.  "And I'm sixteen, I'm not a kid."</p><p>"Babysitting Nicaise wouldn't be the reason you don't get laid anyway," Jord says.  Laurent can hear Nicaise grumble as he ducks back inside the crawlspace. "You know like, ninety five percent of the citizens here are Vaskians?  Those lizards would rather gut you than sleep with you and yes, that's including the males."</p><p>"Please don't get eviscerated tonight, Lazar," Laurent says, already feeling a headache forming.  "I mean that literally."</p><p>"Hey," Lazar pouts, "there's a fair number of humans living here, not to mention all the other human crews who are docked just like we are.  And I saw some Patrans earlier who were looking pretty fine. How about it, Captain?  Want to give me the lowdown on what it's like with a Patran?"</p><p>"I imagine it's much the same as anything else, except with significantly more feathers," Laurent says, annoyed.  "And based on your private browsing history it seems like you're probably the most qualified out of all of us to expound on Human/Patran relations, unless your search for 'big feathery cock' means something totally different from what I fear it does."</p><p>But either Lazar doesn't catch Laurent's tone, or he isn't too worried about his leave being cancelled and being forced to clean the floors of the ship with a toothbrush--which he really should be--because he just laughs.</p><p>"Ouch, boss.  You go right for the jugular, don't you?  I just thought that because of Torveld--"</p><p>"I know what you thought, Lazar.  Thinking is a bad habit of yours.  And Torveld was a business connection only, which I know you're well aware of."</p><p>"I know, I know.  But the point <em>is</em>," Lazar says patiently, "that he was obviously super attracted to you, at least before you shut him down like you did.  The important thing to take away here is that it means that Patrans can find humans attractive.  Which means that I have just doubled my chances of getting laid tonight.  If I can find out if Vaskians are attracted to humans I'll be set."</p><p>"You'd really fuck a Vaskian?" Nicaise asks, popping out of the crawlspace.  "Like, with all those claws and scales and everything?"</p><p>"Nicaise, I am ordering you to stop listening to this conversation," Laurent says.</p><p>"I mean, I would think about it," Lazar answers, as if Laurent hadn't spoken.  "Those bright scales are pretty neat.  I wonder what kind of colors they'd turn right before they--"</p><p>"Jord," Laurent says, turning to his pilot, a pleading note in his voice.</p><p>"Don't worry, boss.  I'll make sure this idiot doesn't die tonight," Jord says, resigned.  "Oh, by the way, you got a delivery.  I put it in your quarters for you."</p><p>"Thanks," Laurent says, looking up at Nicaise, who's staring at Lazar with something like morbid fascination on his face. "You want to go to the markets later, Nicaise?"</p><p>"Nah," he says, popping back inside.  "Vannes said she's gonna teach me how to count cards.  Besides, I don't know if you noticed, but it's really hot out there.  And it's really nice in here."</p><p>"I did notice, actually," Laurent says, heading towards his bunk.  "And if Vannes teaches you something that gets you arrested I'm going to be very angry."</p><p>"I'll teach him better than <em>that</em>," Vannes says, slightly offended.</p><p>Laurent huffs and heads towards his bunk, unlacing his jacket as he goes.  Even the slight loosening around his neck and wrists allows for better airflow, and in a fit of pique that he doesn't usually let himself indulge in he has his jacket off before his door is fully closed behind him. He throws the offending garment on the bed, not caring about the mess for right now.  It would be nice to stay in tonight in this air conditioned heaven, he thinks as he sinks down on his bunk and wrestles his boots off.  He could get some paperwork done, maybe, or check his mail, which he hasn't kept up with like he should.  Or maybe even read a book.  It's been a long time since he's had the time to do something indulgent like that.</p><p>His eyes catch on a small box on his desk, and remembers that Jord had said something about a delivery. He fights the urge to just ignore it and get comfortable on the bed, but eventually his curiosity gets the better of him and he drags himself up to go over and look at it. It's small, small enough to be tucked away in an inside pocket in the cloak he sometimes wears (on cooler planets, not on this hellhole) and it looks to be made out of actual wood, not replicated plastic or veneer.  For some reason it makes him think of the maps he had seen hanging on Damen's wall, and he sighs.  Damen had called him a few times over the past two weeks but each time he had seemed distracted, or, if Laurent hadn't known any better, nervous.  If they had been able to talk in person he would have been able to suss out what was wrong in a flash--Damen is notoriously bad at keeping things that bothered him to himself, and Laurent has ways of making him talk.  But they weren't in person, weren't even in the same quadrant of space as each other right now.  Damen had returned to Ios on some urgent business and Laurent was still stuck finishing up his job with the Vaskians.  By the time they got to see each other again--well, who knew when that would be.  With another sigh that he knows is bordering on maudlin he lifts the latch and opens the box.</p><p>And freezes.  Inside the box, sitting on a bed of plush blue velvet, is a simple gold cuff.  It looks delicate, fragile and thin, but when Laurent picks it up with tentative fingers he can feel a comforting weight to it and knows with the instinct of someone who's smuggled their fair share of valuable materials that it would likely withstand quite a bit of mistreatment. The metal is cool but warms quickly under his fingers, and upon closer inspection he realizes that the cuff isn't completely smooth as he had first thought--the metal is etched with delicate swirls and patterns, and they're hard to see unless he peers very closely at it but they're easy enough to feel underneath the pads of his fingers.  As he traces over the top of the cuff he realizes that the pattern etched into it isn't random, but a starburst pattern.  But no, not <em>a</em> starburst pattern.  <em>His</em> starburst pattern.  The starburst the de Vere family has used as long as he can remember.  The one that, in a weird twist of fate that would be almost prophetic if Laurent believed in such things, looks almost exactly like the scar Damen wears on his skin.</p><p>He sits down at the desk with a heavy thud, his heart beating a fiery rhythm in his chest.  He holds the cuff delicately, like it's a precious piece of glass and liable to shatter into a million pieces at any moment, and he's half tempted to just put it back in the box to keep it safe--which is when he spots a note pressed gently into the blue velvet, tucked away at the bottom of the box. When he opens it he recognizes the handwriting immediately, and his breath catches in his throat.</p><p>
  <em>Before you decide whether or not to put this on, there's something you should know about it.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Firstly, it's made out of a metal that, out of all of the metals in the entire galaxy, is only found in the deepest part of the Ellosean Sea on Ios.  It's highly prized not only because of its durability and its beautiful burnished gold color but because of how difficult it is to find and how dangerous it is to mine.  There are many local legends associated with finding this precious metal, most of them having to do with common fishermen being tricked and captured by dangerous, beautiful mermaids who promise wealth and fortune but who usually drag the unsuspecting souls down to their watery kingdoms as slaves, or sometimes dinner.  Don't read too much into that part.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Secondly, and perhaps most relevant, is that this particular item closes with a magnetically sealing lock that can only be opened by my touch.  Once you put it on you'll be unable to take it off again, and indeed unable to even break it off unless you travel to Ios and find one of the three blacksmiths on the planet who are specifically trained to work with this difficult material, but a simple touch from me will have it opening easily, as it is keyed to my fingerprint and mine alone.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I hope the decision you make as to whether or not you choose to accept my gift will not be a hard one, but I find myself nervous about it nonetheless.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I am, and have only ever been,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>yours</em>
</p><p>Laurent knows immediately what his decision will be, doesn't even have to think twice about it.  The tight feeling that's been pushing against his chest for the last two weeks deflates and then disappears entirely as he snaps the cuff on his wrist, the slight buzz of the magnetic lock prickling against his skin as it seals shut.  It fits perfectly, tight enough to not rattle around but not enough to restrict movement, and it feels comforting in a way that he didn't entirely expect and that makes him blush, for some reason.  The burnished gold color practically glows against his fair skin, and he can't help but run his fingers over the delicate etchings, already knowing that it is going to take an immense amount of self restraint to not do that at every moment of every day.</p><p>"Jord," he says, turning on his comm and pinging his pilot.  "That package you told me about earlier.  Did you see who delivered it?"</p><p>"I didn't see him, no," Jord says, "but Lazar accepted the package. The reason why I know that is because he didn't shut up about it for hours afterwards."</p><p>"Why is that?" Laurent asks, dragging his boots over to him and yanking them back on, ignoring the protests of his aching feet.</p><p>"Why does Lazar ever get excited about anything?  A human delivered it, and he was hot, apparently.  Said his arms were like tree trunks and his legs--hey Lazar!" Jord calls out.  "What did you say about that delivery boy's legs?"</p><p>There's some murmuring from the other end of the comm as Laurent finishes tying up his boots and shrugs into his jacket, doing up the laces on the front with a quick, distracted hand.  After some muffled conversation Jord comes back on the line with an inelegant snort. </p><p>"Sorry, excuse me.  He was a delivery <em>man</em>, not a delivery boy.  My apologies."  This part, sarcastically, to Lazar.  "Apparently he had legs that Lazar said he wouldn't mind getting his skull crushed by.  Ugh, Lazar, you are disgusting. You really do need to get laid tonight."</p><p>"Did you get a good look at his face?" Laurent asks.</p><p>"Yeah, it looks pretty much the same as always, smug and cocky even though he has no right to be--"</p><p>"Not Lazar," Laurent says with a heroic amount of patience, checking to ensure that the cuff is hidden neatly under his sleeve.  He makes sure that the laces on his jacket are snug so that it won't be obvious at a glance that he was even wearing it; it wouldn't do to give the game away too quickly, after all.  "Da--the delivery man, I mean."</p><p>"Oh, sure. Lazar said he was wearing a hood, so he didn't get a good look at his face, but he said with a body like that it would hardly matter," Jord says, before lowering his voice. "Is everything okay, boss?"</p><p>And Laurent remembers the feeling of Damen's fingers around his wrist, the way that Damen needed that touch as much as Laurent did.  He remembers the way Damen had looked at him after they had woken up together for the first time in Damen's bed, so full of love and light and happiness that it made his chest hurt with how sincere it was.  He wonders what Damen will look like tonight, after he finds him--which won't be easy, because he knows Damen loves this game as much as Laurent does, but it <em>will</em> be quick, because he also knows with a certainty in his soul that feels like an anchor that Damen won't be able to stay away from him for long--and he wonders what he'll do when he finally sees it, the first flash of gold through his laces, or later, the shining gold against his pale skin, the way it would look set against the darker bronze of Damen's muscled body.</p><p>"Yes," he says, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his face.  "Yes, I'm fine."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Me:  maybe you should cut out some of the sci fi fluff, just concentrate on the porn. You know, the emotional arc of the whole thing and the reason why you started this in the first place?<br/>Also me: VASKIAN STRIP CLUB BABEEYYY lemme see those scales you sexy lizard</p></blockquote></div></div>
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